


"Mirror, Mirror on the Wall..."

by Berenawillhappen



Category: Holby City
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berenawillhappen/pseuds/Berenawillhappen
Summary: Bernie moves in, and Serena is "helping" her unpack. It involves a very gay shirt.





	"Mirror, Mirror on the Wall..."

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me when I was going through my clothes and found my favourite shirt from High School. I’ve never laughed so hard before as I did when I saw myself in the mirror wearing it again.. Safe to say Bernie’s reaction in this is very close to what happened!

  


Bernie stood looking herself up and down in the mirror. She had finally gotten around to unpacking the boxes Marcus had stashed all her belongings in, the day he found out about the affair. She’d come home that day to find a wall of brown carton boxes on the porch, and a possibly locked door she hadn’t bothered to check. Message was very much received. She’d stuffed everything into her car, driven over to a hotel, and then a real estate agent the day after. She’d bought pretty much the first apartment she’d seen, carried the boxes inside, and continued with her life.

 

They’d been stacked around various places in Bernie’s old apartment ever since, but one of Serena’s requirements, the only real one perhaps, was that if Bernie were to move in with her, she would have to unpack properly, _for real_ Serena had said. Not place several boxes all around, like she was constantly ready to move. She was going to move in with Serena, for real, and they were making a home with each other. There wasn’t any need for boxes anymore.

 

Bernie, ever the dutiful soldier, had of course readily agreed to that, realising much too late that it entailed Serena “helping” her go through every little piece that was in the boxes, or as Serena had called it, helping her unpack.

 

Bernie never thought of herself as a person needing things, except from those most near and dear to her heart. Other than a few pictures of her children, some tokens from her travels and a favorite novel, she’d never really projected feelings onto things. Serena on the other hand, was one of Bernie’s personal nightmares when it came to _things_.

 

After half an eternity of Bernie saying “put it in the throw pile” and Serena trying to squeeze out every little detail of every little item in the mountain of boxes, saying things like “Are you sure you really want to throw it away?” and “I don’t get why you don’t want to keep this sweet little pear-shaped rock Charlotte gave you when she was three?!”, they’d eventually gone through all of that carton hell of Bernie’s, coming out the other side alive, and with only a quarter of it in the keep-pile. Her “near and dear’s” were now accompanied by her photo albums, some more books, and clothes.

_“Bernie, I didn’t know you had that?” Serena exclaimed._

_Bernie looked up from the clothing in her hands, and eyed Serena with trepidation. She knew that look all too well, and crap, she’d hoped to chuck it in the “throw pile” before Serena noticed it. “I haven’t worn it since the kids were in school, and to be honest, I didn’t even know I still had it.” She said as she was moving over to the pile, hoping Serena would take the hint. She didn’t._

_“Well, you just have to keep it! The colours suit you perfectly, and I’m sure it still looks great on you..” Serena purred._

_“It’s just an old shirt, and I have plenty of them, I really don’t need one more.” Bernie tried to convince her partner._

_“Well, one can never have too many plaid shirts. And besides, you probably have so many fond memories of it with the children. Leave it in the “keep pile”, love.”_

_Well, Serena certainly put that discussion to death effectively, Bernie mused as she did as she was told._

 

The next day, on Serena’s insistence, “I’m sure the kids would love to see you in this again!”, Bernie had yet again done what she’d been told. She was now standing in the middle of their bedroom, the word _their_ momentarily putting a large grin on Bernie’s face, looking horrified at herself in the mirror. At first she was just staring in the mirror, at the reflection that was supposed to be of herself and looked nothing like it, mouth slightly agape and with eyes a mixture of wonder and shock, before she guawffed out loud.

 

Once she’d started laughing she couldn’t stop herself, tears were forming in her eyes, and her ribs were starting to hurt. Each time she had remotely calmed down she would either catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, or look down her own body and see _that_ shirt, and it would start all over again.

“Why does it sound like someone’s killing a goose in our bedroom?!” Serena said as she entered said room, her voice stern, but with eyes  full of mirth.

 

“I… aha..” was all Bernie got out before she started laughing again, helplessly flailing her arms around in an attempt to clue Serena in on what was happening.

 

Serena was none the wiser, and pinned Bernie with the best “What in the world is going on?!”-stare she could muster. However, keeping a straight face around a honking, wildly gesticulating Bernie, turned out to be an impossible task, and soon she was joining in too.

 

“Even though I love laughing with you, do you care to share what's brought this on then?” Serena asked when they'd eventually calmed down, herself flat out on her back on the bed, Bernie sitting on the floor leaning back against it.

 

A strangled sound came from a place near Serena’s legs, and the bed began shaking a bit. “Don't you dare Bernie!”

 

A heavy breath and a raspy chuckle later Bernie answered. “It's the shirt!”

 

Serena leaned up on her elbows and saw Bernie looking back up at her with pleading eyes, and a face ready to burst out laughing again.

 

“What about it? It's a shirt.”

 

“Serena..” Came the even more pleading answer.

 

“Bernie!”

 

Bernie got up and held her arms out in defeat. “Look at it.”

 

“I am looking at it, it's a perfectly fine plaid shirt.”

 

“Serena, this is possibly the gayest shirt I have ever seen! I don't even know how I hadn't outed myself to half of Holby, let alone my family, wearing this.. But I'm never wearing it again.”

 

Serena entangled herself from the bed, and stood in front of Bernie, taking her hands in her own.

 

“Bernie, it's just a shirt. It's a nice shirt, not the most ladylike shirt I've ever seen, but neither are you! I don't think you look more gay in it than usual, and if you like it and feel comfortable in it then, well, use it! Don't think about what everyone else thinks of you when they see you wearing it. Everyone who matters already know you're in a relationship with a woman, the rest of them doesn't matter, okay?” She said in a soft voice, very well knowing it was less about the shirt, but more about what it symbolised. Bernie had a hard time getting used to the idea of being openly gay, and of course a shirt that basically yelled it, would appeal to her more insecure side.

 

“Okay” Bernie whispered with a shy smile, pulling Serena in for a long hug.

 

One of the reasons she loved Serena so much was exactly this. When Bernie panics about little things, blowing them out of proportions, she can always rely on Serena to calm her down and give her some much needed perspective. “Thank you” she whispered into the crook of Serena's neck.

 

“Okay, now, I have to get down and finish dinner before the kids come crashing through our door. Will you be okay here?” Serena asked into Bernie's shoulder.

 

“Yes” Came the breathy reply, sealed with a quick peck by her temple.

 

“Mmm, good. Come down and keep me company when you're ready.” Serena said as she was giving Bernie quick pecks on her lips, before moving to get back downstairs to finish dinner.

 

Just as Serena was about to disappear through their bedroom door, a thought hit Bernie like a ton of bricks. “Wait, what do you mean, I don't look _more_ gay than usual?!”

**Author's Note:**

> This little oneshot is me trying to get back into writing again. I promise I will finish up all my stories before I throw in the Berena-towel for good. I know it’s been a ridiculously long wait for some of the stories, and I apologize. To those who has messaged me or commented; I’m almost done with all of them and I will begin posting again when I’ve finished the last chapters of the stories (Just in case I get hit with writer’s block again, I want to make sure they’re complete before posting new chapters so I don’t get anyone’s hopes up). Who knows, maybe I’ll be right back at it again if Jemma ever comes back to Holby for more than 1-2 episodes. In the meantime, this silly little thing is what you get :P


End file.
